


the one person i loved

by extenuatingcircumlocution



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Kidnapping, M/M, Ransom, Revenge, Temporary Character Death, Unconditional Love, Unrequited Love, brief references to nygmakins, i dont finish wips i just keep starting new stuff, im incapable of making sad endings, it wont last long dw, or not? who's to say, shouldve made the anti-butch sentiment in this fic stronger, thats really what this whole story is about idk how else to put it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22919407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extenuatingcircumlocution/pseuds/extenuatingcircumlocution
Summary: Revenge ends up being far more convoluted than anyone could have predicted.A season 5 AU.
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Tabitha Galavan/Barbara Kean
Comments: 14
Kudos: 57





	1. step one

**Author's Note:**

> I'm getting really back into writing because I've emerged from my depressive slump so here I am! It's been almost two years since I came up with this idea and started writing it but better late than never, I guess. 
> 
> Really, this idea was born the first moment Oswald said, "You took away the one person I loved so I took away the one person you loved" because there's so much missing from that sentence it kills me.

_Soon he will perforate the fabric of the peaceful by and by_

**Barbara**

It took Babs one look at Tabby’s tear-soaked face to realize that love is more powerful than hatred.

Love could change anything, make you compromise anything, make you sacrifice anything.

Butch had antagonized her at their first meeting, proceeded to be jealous and unpleasant, demonstrated selfishness at every opportunity with Tabby (though Babs was guilty of that as well). Barbara had shot him in the head and there had never been a shred of guilt about it. He came back and she wanted to do it again, over and over.

But Tabby was sobbing on the floor, Butch’s blood staining her hands, pure despair wracking her body. Barbara would bend the rules of time and space and nature to bring Butch back, just so that Tabitha would smile.

For an hour after Tabitha first returned to the club, Babs carded her fingers through her long dark hair, whispering reassurances and promises of vengeance: the only thing Babs could promise since the only person that might be able to change Butch’s current state worked for the person who put a second bullet in him. 

Barbara took Tabby to bed, pulling a blanket over her weak body and pressed the softest kiss she could muster onto her cheek. 

Perhaps, if this had happened a year ago, Barbara might be bitter, might resentfully wonder  _ why am I not enough?  _ But Barbara didn’t care about any of that anymore. Tabby might not be hers, but she was Tabby’s.

And the woman she loved more than anything was falling apart in front of her, crying herself silently to sleep as she watched from the doorway, powerless.

Eventually, Tabby’s breaths petered out into a gentle rhythm and Barbara closed the door shut so she could assess the situation going forward.

Penguin did this.

He shot Butch--and based on principle Babs might even commend him for the act, if it hadn’t caused Tabitha unimaginable sorrow.

Barbara believed in an eye for an eye, and the math said that the board was even, that they were all square. But this was not a feud on paper and pain was not a math equation. Whether Oswald was justified or not was irrelevant.

Tabitha was distraught and so the person who made it happen would have to pay.

* * *

Tabitha didn’t get out of bed for a week. 

The bridges were gone and supplies needed to be rationed but Babs was willing to take a cut so that Tabby could have more.

She communicated in single words, eyes either closed or focused on some distant point beyond the walls of the club. 

“Food.”

“Water.”

“Blanket.”

Whatever Tabby requested, Tabby received. 

Barbara did not complain about waiting on her. She’d set a platter on the bedside table and sit beside her to pet her, to kiss her, to whisper promises. 

Really it felt like organ failure. It was impossible to be angry or annoyed at the heart stopping to beat. She was too overtaken with second-hand despair to care that her blood wasn’t coursing. The only thing that mattered to her was making sure Tabby’s started up again.

* * *

Barbara was at the bar, welcoming yet another woman to the club, when she saw Tabby slowly emerge from the side room.

“Babs?” she called out, her voice rough.

“Good morning, honey. I hope you feel bett--”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Tabby cut in, punctuating her point with the slam of her fists against the counter.

“Give us just a moment,” Barbara said apologetically to the other woman before turning to face Tabby properly. “Hold on a second here--”

“No! He took my  _ everything _ ! I want to see him suffer for it!”

Barbara felt a splinter lodge itself in her heart. She was beyond bitterness and jealousy now. Every so often she would remember that she once did monopolize Tabitha’s affections and that it had only been her own fault that she lost it. She couldn’t be Tabby’s everything, couldn’t even be her  _ something _ really, not the way she wanted to be, and that was okay. It hurt, but it’s what Barbara deserved. The fact that Tabby was standing right in front of her in the first place was already much more than she deserved.

“I know, I know.” Babs sighed, took Tabby’s hands. “But killing Oswald is not only difficult, it’s  _ pointless _ .” Tabby glared and Barbara knew she was about to protest. “Oswald has been living his whole life facing death for passing glimpses of power. Killing him wouldn’t cause him pain. He wouldn’t suffer. Not like you’re suffering now.”

Tabby hesitated. “Okay. What do you suggest we do instead then?”

_ We _ … a small word, a tsunami wave of glee. 

“Oswald took the thing you cared about more than anything. So take what  _ he loves more than anything. _ ”

“I already did!” Tabby snapped, tossing her hands up in frustration. “I killed his mom  _ years  _ ago and the idiot never got over it! What part of this haven’t you been following?!”

“His mom is dead, yes,” Babs conceded. “But Edward Nygma isn’t.”

Tabitha shut her mouth closed and Babs watched the anger float out of her shoulders and a sinister grin settle on her lips.

This is what Barbara was here for.

The plan would involve a lot more than finding Nygma, killing him, then telling Penguin all about it. That didn’t stretch the pain out enough, didn’t rub it in the way Penguin had done to Tabby.

Tabby had to be there to watch Butch fall, to see the life vanish from his body, to hold him as his blood oozed onto the floor, in order for Oswald’s revenge to be fulfilled.

Penguin held his dying mother.

Tabby held her dying lover.

Penguin must then hold the only thing left he cared about as it died.

Then to keep the cycle from repeating, he must be put down, but only after Tabitha decided he’d suffered enough.

“Are you sure he even still cares about Nygma anymore?” Tabby asked in the late hours of the night, sitting at one of the tables and nursing a glass of whiskey. “I mean, I thought he gave up on that little twerp.”

Barbara hated recognizing herself in Penguin, but there was a difference between giving up and not caring anymore.

If Tabby chose Butch, Barbara would wave her white flag, but her heart would still thump everytime she saw her smile.

Babs didn’t have the energy to explain that. “He does, trust me. He’d do anything for that parasite.”

“He has no taste,” Tabs muttered bitterly. “Of all the men in Gotham, he chose the worst one.”

Babs did not mention that the same thing could be said about  _ her _ . 

“I mean, the guy  _ killed _ him and he’s  _ still  _ fawning over him?! Beyond pathetic.”

Babs smiled softly but couldn’t bring herself to add anything. It was pathetic. She really needed to stop relating to Penguin or this was going to be a lot harder to pull off.

* * *

**Oswald**

It had been several months since the bridges blew. Post-apocalypse Gotham looked good on Oswald, showed off his prized features more than any other point in the past had. 

Living in city hall was a middle finger to his previous mayorhood, when he was distracted from what he finally had by the pursuit of something he couldn’t have. That obstacle was no longer floating around, ceaselessly distracting and tantalizing and unattainable. He could focus on plastering his face on every surface on the city he claimed for his own.

So far his conquest had been successful. Scarecrow, Firefly, and Fries were all content to control their small spaces and if he let them be, his own large claim would go on unchallenged.

The only threat to his power was the Sirens club. Barbara had started to spread like a contagion recently, and Oswald would be a fool if this didn’t concern him.

What’s more is that his recent revenge on Tabitha Galavan probably gave Babs even more of an incentive to destroy him and steal his territory.

So when he received a letter stating a desire for a truce, he was not going to take the bait.

_ We’re better as allies than as enemies, Ozzie, _ the letter said.  _ Let’s let bygones be bygones and not have to look over our shoulders every waking minute. _

Oswald rolled his eyes and handed the letter to Mr. Penn.

“Tear this up and put it in a new envelope and send it to them. I can’t be bothered to actually write a reply.”

“Yes, Mr. Cobblepot!” 

There was something severely lacking about the way Mr. Penn said those words: always too much desperation and fear, not enough of that eager and earnest enthusiasm that Oswald had seen in the past… 

Except! Oswald was done missing the way Ed would say his name or the way Ed would smile beside him at every press conference. In all the ways that mattered, it truly was better to be feared than loved. Affection was in most people fragile and shaky but fear was stubborn.

Mr. Penn’s immediate and terrified submission was much preferred to anything Ed had ever offered. 

Maybe if Oswald kept saying it, he’d start to believe it.

* * *

“Mr. Cobblepot… sir…”

“What?” 

Oswald was busy eating his dinner and giving occasional scraps of meat to his new dog.

“She’s here,” Mr. Penn squealed.

“Who?”

Just as Oswald looked up, Barbara strutted into the room, pushing Penn out of the way. She smiled widely. “You didn’t answer my letter,” she said, voice dripping with threat.

“Now, I’m quite sure I did,” Oswald replied, leaning back in his chair. “Penn, didn’t you send the reply like I told you?”

“Yes, I did, Mr. Cobblepot, sir,” Penn answered quickly, lingering uselessly by the door. 

“Then I fail to see the problem.”

“The  _ problem _ ,” Babs said. “Is that I was sincere, Ozzie. And I’m sure you returned to sender on accident, right?” 

Oswald chuckled. “Obviously.”

“So you’d be on board for a truce like I suggested?”

Oswald set his plate on the floor for Edward to eat. “Babs, you and I were not meant to be allies. And you can’t surely expect me to believe that  _ Tabitha _ is not board with this idea.”

“Oh, she definitely isn’t. She hates you and the second Gotham rejoins the mainland, she’ll show you just how much. But I’ve gotten her to agree temporarily retracting her claws. We would both benefit from working together, Ozzie. You’ve got the arms and we’ve got the food and a political union would make us both indestructible.”

Oswald listened to the sound of his dog devouring his steak. Only when the animal started licking his lips after his last bite did Oswald finally speak.

“You make a fair point, Babs.”

“Well?”

“I’ll give you a trial period. I will be watching you so don’t get any bright ideas.”

“Ozzie, Ozzie, relax! We promise not to touch an inch of your territory.” Babs grinned. “Besides we have plenty as it is. You and your little claim here are perfectly safe.”

Oswald sighed. “Fine. But I reserve the right to cancel this truce at any point.”

“Naturally,” she replied, her mouth curving into a smug smile. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Mr. Mayor.”

“I’m not the mayor,” Oswald corrected. “Elections don’t exist in Gotham anymore. You should think of me more as a king.”

The smile vanished off Barbara’s face. “We can trade food for arms. Just send notice when you want to make a deal.” With that, she stalked out of city hall, leaving nothing but silence in her wake.

* * *

**Barbara**

“The deal has been struck!” Babs exclaimed excitedly upon her return to the club.

Tabitha looked unenthusiastic. “This truce thing rubs me the wrong way, babe.”

“I know.” Barbara sat next to her at the bar. “Trust me on this, though, the more we distract him, the easier it’ll be to pull this off. He’ll be so busy wondering what we’ve got planned for  _ him _ , that he won’t even notice when we snatch up a few key chess pieces.”

Tabby sighed. “I know but still…”

Babs waved her off. “Tabby, step one is complete. This is a four step plan, dear, and we’re already a quarter of the way through.”

“So, next we get Nygma, right?” Tabby was finally looking excited, so it almost hurt to let her down.

“Tabs, I got some intel the other day. Apparently, Lee and Nygma stabbed each other in the narrows the day the bridges blew.”

“What?!” Tabby stood up in a rush. “He’s  _ dead _ ?! Then what the fuck are we doing planning and scheming? I’ll skip the middle man and get straight to killing Penguin!”

“No, babe, you don’t get it.” Babs gestured for Tabby to retake her seat and after some coaxing she finally acquiesced. “Penguin brought them both back.”

“What?”

“Penguin has one thing we don’t have. Nygma could die a thousand times and Ozzie would keep having him brought back. Our only shot at making sure Nygma stays dead is get our hands on Strange.”

“But--” Tabby looked lost. “Couldn’t we bring him back? We could just… skip revenge and just bring him back…”

“Honey, he’s gone. It’s been months. His body is too far gone to be brought back. I’m sorry.”

Tabby nodded sadly, spine deflating. “So, what? We just convince Strange to switch to our side?”

Babs shook her head. “That’s not enough. What we need is to completely take Strange out of the equation. If he’s alive, he’ll always be a threat to us, and if we really want to make Ozzie suffer, we need to make sure he doesn’t have any hope of bringing Nygma back.”

“So step two is killing Strange?”

Babs nodded. This was probably easier said than done, since Strange was well-protected and clever. But Babs and Tabby were clever too, and they had passionate numbers on their side. The Sirens would be up for the challenge. 

It might take some time, but Penguin would pay for what he did to Tabitha, especially if Babs had any say.


	2. step 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabitha and Barbara pay Strange a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to clarify that this is a season 5 au, based off my deepest and darkest wishes for the season before it aired. thus, the whole bane and haven thing is not relevant.

_I guess I'll spend another lifetime searching for a new hope_

* * *

**Tabitha**

Tabitha sometimes screamed herself awake in the middle of the night, found the voice she couldn’t find when Penguin was killing Butch. She’d sit up and sob for a moment, allowing the agony and guilt to slowly seep out of her until all she could think about was her heavy breaths, the tears drying on her cheeks.

Sleep was hard. She often found herself wandering through the club after closing hours, sitting in booths and relishing in a rare moment of silence. But she didn’t really want silence. She wanted peace and comfort and warmth and for that reason, she’d surrender her hours of solitude to sneak quietly into Barbara’s room.

Tabitha pull up the covers and snuggle her cold body against Barbara’s warm one and rest her face against her back. Just one hand on a shoulder, and then Tabitha would feel sweet calm washing over her. 

There was no cure for heartbreak, but there was a treatment of love, love, love, love, repeat. 

It was almost shocking how loyal Barbara was proving herself to be. Not a peep about disliking Butch, nor an annoyed comment about Tabitha’s fragility. If Tabby looked like she’d fall over, Babs would hold her hand tight, give her a sweet smile, lead her away from all those women talking and yelling and crying.

Before Tabitha would fully nod off to sleep in Barbara’s bed, she’d surprise herself by wanting to whisper, “I love you,” into the soft silk of her pajamas.

* * *

“We found Strange!” Barbara exclaimed excitedly as she strode into the club, loyal guards on either side. “He’s holed up in some warehouse right outside of Penguin’s territory.”

Tabitha stood up from her booth with a start. “Let’s go kill him.”

Barbara chuckled. “You get ready while I toy with Pengy for a bit to distract him.”

Tabitha didn’t wait around to hear it twice; if step two of the plan was nigh then she’d be ready.

It was step four she was really looking forward to, but step two might help with some pent up stress.

Barbara’s plan consisted of sending some women to stand peacefully on the border to Oswald’s territory. It was confusing and she knew that Oswald would take it as a threat or at the very least a challenge. That gave Barbara and Tabitha plenty of time to close in on Strange and make sure he never brought another person back to life.

The warehouse was out of sight of any Gothamites, away from the more crowded spaces where people sought shelter. This area was barren, deserted, and probably dangerous.

Tabby wasn’t scared, but she held Babs’ hand nonetheless, letting the other woman lead her throughout the debris-ridden streets until they reached Strange’s new home.

They snuck in through a basement window in the back, silently falling into a room cluttered with dusty boxes and the smell of dried blood.

They remained quiet as they shuffled up some stairs and carefully maneuvered the building to find their target.

“Do you think he’s out?” Tabby asked.

“No. My sources confirmed he never leaves this place.”

“Maybe we should split up? Cover more ground?”

Barbara nodded in assent and with that they separated, Babs taking the second floor and Tabby taking the third. 

Tabby took the third floor step by step, checking every dark corner and behind every door, to no avail.

Just when she was about to turn around and do the whole floor again, she heard the cocking of a gun and a tranquil voice say, “Well, I was not expecting you.”

Tabby knew that gun was aimed at her head. If she startled him and he shot her, there would be no avenging Butch. Instead, she stayed stock still.

“I know Mr. Cobblepot has wronged you, but need I remind you that I brought back your lover as I was instructed to? I don’t know what you want with me.”

Tabitha slowly turned around, hands up in surrender. “Is it too late?” she asked, voice shaky. “Is it too late to bring him back?”

“Where is his body?” Strange asked, face as calm as his voice, despite the gun in his hand. “Have you preserved him?”

“No… Penguin didn't let me have him.”

“No doubt Mr. Cobblepot has long ago disposed of the body. Such a shame.”

Tabby exhaled tightly. “Then we don't need you anymore.”

“We?” Strange asked, eyebrow raised. “So you didn’t come alone.”

Tabby ignored him. “Doesn’t it piss you off that after all the work you did in getting Butch back to his old self, Penguin shot him and it was all for nothing?”

“Nothing? I got my pay. What Mr. Cobblepot does with him after I fix him is of no interest to me.”

“Don’t you feel like a pawn?”

“My dear girl, the pawn is the most powerful piece in the game. Understated, underestimated, but if overlooked for too long, can rise the rank to queen.”

Tabby wanted to scream. The easiest way to go about this would be to convince Strange to join their team, to swear off alliances with Penguin for good and to not worry about his interference once Nygma’s brains were splattered all over city hall. But that was not the way this was going. 

“I’m surprised you’ve come here,” Strange mused. “Of all the places to go for your revenge, my place is the last I would’ve expected. I thought you’d be in Edward Nygma’s library by now.”

“Library?”

Strange gave a small smile. “Yes. He’s been staying at a library, kept as far from Mr. Cobblepot as possible.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“A trade. I gave you information. Now you and your cohort can leave the premises.”

Tabby looked around herself. There was rot in the walls and stains in the floors. Up against the walls were dirty cots and then, all of a sudden, she could smell elegant perfume.

Barbara said, “Thanks for the tip,” and fired her pistol into the back of Strange’s head. He dropped to the floor like a bowling ball, Tabby jumping out of the way just in time.

“I wanted to kill him,” Tabby pouted.

Barbara smiled softly. “I promise you’ll have Nygma all to yourself.”

She held out a hand and Tabby took it and they walked out with their hands still joined.

* * *

Tabby’s dreams were blinding. Most nights, she’d watch as Butch’s face changed the moment he was shot. How he’d gone from smiling to dying in only a matter of seconds. How quickly his body had drained of life.

She’d dream of Penguin’s smug face, the way he spat his promise to kill her too after she’d suffered enough.

In the moment, she’d wanted him to shoot her right away, no hesitation.  _ Make the pain stop,  _ she wanted to plead.  _ Why didn’t you just kill me? _

And sometimes, the words, “ You took away the one person I loved so I took away the one person you loved” would echo in her brain until she woke with a start. That choice of words had been so specific, so carefully delivered. When he’d first uttered them, Tabitha had been distracted by the pain of grief but now she knew he’d said it on purpose.

“We are even,” is what he meant. “There’s nothing left for us to do but kill each other.”

He’d wanted Tabby to forget that she’d been present for his heartfelt confessions to Nygma, that she hadn’t watched him get dragged off, sobbing and pleading and begging, to the pier to get a bullet in the head.

Tabitha had seen his face get sticky with tears, had seen the way he looked at Nygma, the desperation in his voice when he’d proudly proclaimed that he’d rather die than give up his love.

There was much left to do before they could kill each other. As long as Nygma was still living, Oswald would never truly despair as she had.

* * *

**Ed**

Ed had tried to stand up and run off the first day after the bridges blew, when he saw where he was and who he was with, but his gut still stung with the sharp pain of  _ getting stabbed _ , so he dropped back down on the ground.

“Don’t bother,” Lee had said, not even looking at him.

“I can’t believe you stabbed me,” Ed hissed. “After everything we’ve been through.”

“And what have we been through, Ed? Please enlighten me.”

Ed shot her a look but kept his mouth shut. Instead he asked, “Where are we?”

“The Narrows,” Lee said fondly.

“Obviously,” Ed snapped. “But this is not where we stabbed each other.”

“Does it matter?” Lee asked. “We’re both alive and whoever made sure of that isn’t here. Isn’t that the bigger mystery?”

Ed tried to stand again, this time grabbing the brick wall for assistance. Lee stayed still, patiently sitting.

“You think I’m an idiot,” Ed bit out. “You always did. You just used me while you could and then when you had no more use for me you cast me aside.”

“Is that so different from what you do, Ed?” Her voice was soft, as if she was speaking to a child. 

“Yes!” Ed yelled, finally getting to his feet and steadying himself. “I’ve never done what you did!”

“As soon as Kristen was too much to handle and not worth the trouble, you got rid of her.”

“That was a mistake!”

“Was it?”

“Yes!”

“Was Penguin a mistake too?”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “Oswald was the one who betrayed  _ me _ .”

Lee almost looked sad, her hand over her stomach, gently breathing. “You’re the one who left him behind at the bank. As soon as he’d served his purpose, you abandoned him.”

“That’s not what that was,” Ed argued. This was pointless. He redirected his energy towards slowly shuffling out of the alley. “It was only a matter of time before he betrayed me. That’s just how we are. It’s not like he’s hurt about it. You couldn’t possibly understand.”

Lee didn’t say anything and Ed worried she’d maybe died while he was talking, so he cast a glance at her, just to see her eyes boring into his. She looked disappointed, even a bit angry.

“I don’t regret stabbing you, Ed. And I know you don’t regret stabbing me. We were nothing but a passing distraction for each other and you know it.”

Ed shook his head, repeating, “not true,” as he took slow, staggering steps to the mouth of the alley.

“You couldn’t say you loved me because you didn’t love me. We never cared about each other and that’s why it was so easy to try to kill each other. You know it’s true.”

“No.”

“I was something you needed to pass the time before you ran back to Penguin again and you know it.”

Ed stumbled and fell on his ass again. “What did you say?”

“Just like you were a distraction for me. We served our purpose. This is over, and it should’ve been a while ago.”

“I am  _ not  _ going back to Oswald!”

“Then where are you going?”

Ed stayed put on the floor. 

“Not to him.”

They sat in the alley together in silence for hours. Ed was surprised by how intolerable he found her company. How had he deluded himself into fondness for her? She thought she was so  _ smart _ , psychoanalyzing him and trying to crack him as if she actually knew him. 

When they were both strong enough to stand without leaning against the wall and when the pain had subsided in both their stomachs enough for them to walk out of the alley, they got up and left each other: Lee turning left and Ed turning right.

Ed was  _ not  _ going to Oswald. He didn’t know where Oswald was, but he  _ wouldn’t  _ be finding out.

* * *

Oswald’s territory was the largest and most daunting in this new and deranged Gotham. 

Ed wasn’t even allowed to set foot there--not that he’d tried (more than twice). Apparently, Oswald  _ was  _ still sore about the bank fiasco and did not want Ed around.

Which was just fine with Ed since he didn’t want Oswald around either.

For some reason, once he and Lee had parted ways, her life had greatly improved and his had floundered. Lee was living in GCPD territory, living on tiny rations and in a police station crowded with people. 

Ed was living in a library, waking up in the bathtub, eating next to nothing and going days without seeing another human being.

Lee was with her friends, with  _ Jim _ . 

Ed was alone.

And Oswald was doing just fine too, living in opulence and eating steak and adopting dumb dogs.

Lee was happy. Oswald was happy. Ed was the only one suffering in this new Gotham. 

He was the only one falling apart. 

Not that he’d ever admit it.


	3. step 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed is kidnapped.

_And in darkness I pray you never find him again._

* * *

**Ed**

Ed had been living in the library for months, ever since the first time he’d been kicked out of Oswald’s territory.

“Firm instructions,” said the meathead who was escorting him far from the territory lines. “Penguin doesn’t want  _ you  _ anywhere near him.”

He’d been unceremoniously thrown against a brick wall, and looking back Ed couldn’t remember why he thought it would be a good idea to try again.

Or why he thought it’d be a good idea to open the door at the sound of an innocent knock.

_ Oswald, _ his brain had said and he had jumped up from his seat at the desk to answer it.

Not that he was a complete moron--he had a makeshift security system in place. In order to get to the door at all one would have to be crafty and clever and maybe it was designed specifically so that Oswald would be able to get past it, but maybe not.

But Oswald was not at the door, nor were any of his goons.

Instead, two glowering women he’d never seen before were waiting for him, with Barbara Kean and Tabitha Galavan standing several feet away from the door.

“What is this?”

“Why’d you answer?” Tabitha snarked. “I was sure we’d have to break in and you just  _ answered the door _ .”

“I was expecting someone,” Ed lied.

Tabitha shook her head in judgment before saying, “Get him,” and then the two women in front of him advanced.

* * *

“--really the whole thing was kind of underwhelming. He’s never as smart as he makes himself out to be.”

Ed woke up with a raging headache and glaring lights above him. He tried to move, but his hands and ankles were bound, and movement on the plastic booth seat was difficult. 

Barbara was sitting at the other end of the booth, nursing a cocktail. When he looked up, he noticed she was talking to a middle-aged woman who kept nervously glancing at him.

“He’s all bark and no bite,” Barbara finished with a broad smile. She took another sip of her drink and seemed to notice him for the first time. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up.”

Ed wriggled to sit up, a struggle when his hands were behind his back. “What is this?”

“You’ve been kidnapped, honey.”

Ed glowered at her and Barbara sent the woman away. 

“Don’t you dare give me that look. If you didn’t want to be held for ransom, you shouldn’t have made it so easy to get into your library.”

“Ransom?” Ed repeated. “What ransom? Who are you holding me for?”

Barbara smirked at him over the rim of her glass. “Is that a joke? Ozzie, of course. Who else would want you?”

Ed burst into laughter. “Oswald? Are you sure you’re not the one joking?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Ed leaned against the booth’s backrest. “Oswald hasn’t wanted anything to do with me for  _ months _ . He’s hated me ever since I double crossed him at a bank.”

Babs finished her drink and got to her feet. “He could never hate you. Trust me, a love like that doesn’t fade, not for all the double crossing in the world.” 

Ed wanted to protest loudly that  _ love  _ had nothing to do with it, but the look on Barbara’s face was crestfallen. She wasn’t even talking about Oswald, just projecting about her own foolish emotions.

“He won’t come. This is a waste of time.”

“We’ll just wait and see, hmm?” Babs winked and strutted to the counter in the middle of the club, where clientele were drinking and chatting.

Tabitha was nowhere to be seen--probably delivering news of the ransom to Oswald.

Was Ed supposed to sit here, bound, until they realized Oswald would never come?

“Barbara!” he called out, slumped in the seat. “Can’t I have a drink in the meantime?”

* * *

“Relish that, you heathen,” she said, sliding the drink over to him.

She’d released him from his bounds after a bit of pleading. Maybe she didn’t want to drink alone either, because she invited him to sit at the bar to serve him herself. Her compliance wavered only when he asked for a grasshopper and she dissolved into mocking laughter.

“Thank you,” Ed said, grateful to finally have his drink after so much derision.

They sat in silence for a while, drinking their respective drinks. 

“Surely there’s someone else left in Gotham that would be better to hold over Oswald’s head?”

“There’s nobody in the world better than you,” Barbara quipped. “You really don’t know anything, do you?”

“I am the smartest man in Gotham. There’s very little I don’t know.”

“A man who calls himself the smartest probably doesn’t know anything. And for all that trivia and textbook jargon, you really don’t know a single thing that matters.”

Ed didn’t argue, partly because it was true. He’d never been  _ good  _ at understanding people, how they worked, why they found him so off-putting. One thing he’d never really comprehended was how Oswald could have claimed to be in love with him in the first place. 

“He won’t come,” was all Ed could say. “He doesn’t care. Not anymore.”

Barbara exhaled softly. It almost sounded like a self-deprecating laugh. “Have you ever been in love before, Nygma?”

“Yes,” Ed answered quickly.

“When?”

“Kristen Kringle.”

“You killed her!” Barbara laughed.

“On accident. I still loved her.”

“What did you love about her?”

“She was smart. Beautiful. She had a pretty laugh.”

Barbara imitated a buzzer. “Wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“You just described every woman in the world.”

Ed furrowed his eyebrows and Barbara laughed. 

“Okay. Isabel. What did you love about her?”

Ed glared at the wrong name but had no energy to correct her. “Well… she was very  _ pretty _ and well-read.”

“Smart. Beautiful.”

“Well, yes, but Kristen and Isabella had a lot in common.”

“What about Lee?” Barbara crossed her legs and leaned back against the counter. 

“I didn’t love Lee.”

“Yeah, all of Gotham knows that. But what did you like about her? Let me guess: smart, beautiful?”

Ed glowered. “Fine, let’s say I’ve never been in love. What do you think qualifies, since you’re an expert now?”

“Love isn’t about the pretty parts,” Barbara said. “You can’t really love something until you see how ugly it can be. Only when you see and accept every part--the beautiful, the irritating, the hideous--can you really say you love something.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Ed sipped at his drink. “I certainly didn’t like all of Lee. I wanted to change her too much.”

Barbara nodded. “You’re lucky. Love is something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Though, to be fair, my worst enemy already has it, so no point in wishing it.”

“If you’re talking about Oswald, you couldn’t be further from the mark.”

“I don’t really like you, Nygma,” Babs sneered, suddenly irritated, looking him up and down. “You’re an arrogant know-it-all. Your voice is grating. All you ever seem to talk about is trivia and riddles, almost like you want everyone around you to feel stupid. You’re selfish and you don’t think about other people and you shot the only person who ever saw all of that and decided you were worth loving anyway.”

Ed couldn’t look up from the bottom of his glass. 

“Not that it matters anyway. We don’t have time for epiphanies right now.” Barbara stood and summoned one of her loyal henchwomen. “Tie him up again and put him in that booth over there. We want him to look very safe and pretty for when Ozzie shows up.”

Ed didn’t fight the binds.

* * *

**Barbara**

Tabitha wasn’t allowed to actually go see Oswald. Barbara didn’t think she had the restraint not to kill him ahead of schedule, especially when he was sure to be  _ livid _ and might do all sorts of things to provoke her.

Instead, Babs sent her to find someone who could deliver the message:

_ We have Nygma. Come to the Sirens at 8 o’clock tonight or he loses his head. Come alone. _

After her chat with Nygma, he no longer protested that this ransom wouldn’t work. Barbara almost felt a little sorry that she’d told him anything. He was probably  _ thinking, _ or even worse  _ feeling _ , and since he was going to die soon, it was all for nothing. She’d just made a tragedy even more tragic. Oops.

Babs and Tabby waited at one of the tables, chatting idly as Ed brooded in his booth and the hours passed by.

At 7:52, a henchwoman entered the room and announced, “Penguin is here, Barbara. Alone.”

“Excellent! Send him in.”

Oswald looked clean and unperturbed when he entered, as if having the love of his life be held for ransom didn’t even faze him. He had indeed come alone, just as instructed.

“Barbara,” Oswald greeted curtly. He even had the audacity to grin at Tabby. “And Tabitha. Nice to see you.”

Barbara could hear Tabby growling, so she stood up. “Ozzie! Welcome to the Sirens. Want anything to drink?”

“I’ll just take Ed and leave.”

Barbara looked over at where Ed was sitting in the booth. He was staring wide-eyed at Oswald, like he was genuinely surprised that he had come at all. “Oh, him? What’s the rush? You’ve got nowhere to be.”

“I have an empire to run, Babs.”

“Not if you want Nygma, you don’t.”

“So that’s what this is about? You want my territory? So much for a truce.”

Barbara shrugged. “You should’ve thought this through better. And if you didn’t want anyone taking your little man here, you should’ve kept better care of him!”

Oswald had so far not spared Ed a single glance, and he persisted still, keeping eye contact with Babs. “You’re so sure that I’d give you what you want for  _ him _ ?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Tabby hissed, shocking Barbara to turn to her. “Don’t you dare fucking pretend like this is even a question. Just take your skinny boyfriend and stop bluffing. You’re making yourself look like an idiot.” She quirked her lips into a smile. “Though usually boyfriends like you back, right?”

Oswald was fuming, nostrils flared and lips in a sneer. For the first time, he looked over at Ed. In less than a second, the anger had visibly melted out of him. “Oh, Ed,” he muttered. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

“So about that territory,” Babs chirped. “We’d like something in writing.”

“What does that matter? Gotham is a mess. Isn’t my word good enough?”

“No!” Babs scoffed. “You’ll retaliate and we both know it.”

“Fine.”

Babs already had paperwork ready on the counter, waiting to be signed. She handed Oswald the pen and he scribbled his signature where she pointed.

Babs smiled wide as she looked over the papers. “Looks good. You can have him now.”

Oswald wasted no time in rushing over to Ed, sitting next to him on the booth to free him from his binds.

“Oswald,” Ed said when his hands were finally free. “You came.”

“Nevermind that, Eddie.”

Babs tore her eyes away from them, looking instead to Tabitha. A raise of eyebrows. “Well?”

And then Tabitha was standing up. 

“You two are so sweet,” she said, saccharine. 

Oswald had finished undoing all of Ed’s binds. He stood up and helped Ed up. “Nice doing business with you,” he spat. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“What’s the hurry?” Tabby asked, cocking her head to the side. “You just got here.”

Babs looked over at Tabitha just in time to see her pull her gun from her thigh holster. 

It was so fast. Barbara didn’t even have time to turn and see Ed get shot, but she heard Oswald’s scream, heard Ed’s “oof”, saw the gun go off in Tabitha’s hand.

Ed slumped over and Oswald caught him just in time, holding him upright and shouting, “No, no, no, no!” It didn’t take long before Oswald’s leg caved in and they both fell to the floor with a crash, Oswald taking the heavier hit.

“Very sorry,” Tabitha said sarcastically. “But this is what you get for lying to me. You took away the one person I loved so I took away  _ two _ people you love.”

“Ed,” Oswald whined, running a hand over the bullet wound in Ed’s chest. His hand came away bloody. “No… you’ll be okay, I promise. You’ll be okay. I’ll fix you.”

“How do you plan on doing that?” Tabitha asked. From beside her, all Babs could do was watch, resenting the sympathetic pang in her heart as she observed Oswald hugging Ed close. “I mean, if you were planning on taking him to Strange, you should know that we stuck a bullet in that guy’s head about a week ago.”

Oswald finally looked up from Ed’s body--was he dead yet? Babs didn’t really want to look. She kept thinking of Tabby, Tabby, Tabby, and how Tabby had fallen to the floor when R’as had murdered her--eyes wide with rage and shock.

“Why?”

“YOU KILLED BUTCH!” Tabitha screamed.

“WE WERE EVEN!” Oswald screamed back, gripping Ed close to him. “WE WERE EVEN! ED HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT!”

“You should have kept a better eye on him, then!” Tabitha snapped.

Oswald sat quiet for a long moment, hand absentmindedly running through Ed’s hair, eyes staying put on Tabby. 

He moved suddenly and neither Tabitha nor Babs nor the henchwomen around them were fast enough to stop Oswald’s hand from flying up, aiming his pistol directly between Barbara’s eyes, and pulling the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry?


	4. step 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tabitha and Oswald each come to terms with some unpleasant realities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is long and i dont know if i like it but...  
> this could be divided into two parts but i wanted this fic to have 4 chapters so im not changing it now. its just gonna be super long and its too late to do anything abt it

_I figured it all to be love, but this isn't lovely_

* * *

**Tabitha**

Barbara fell, knocked over by the brunt of the bullet.

Tabitha did not scream. She hadn’t been prepared to. One second, Barbara was fine and the next she was lying on the floor, dead.

The women gathered around them started approaching, weapons drawn, but Tabby held up a hand. 

“Don’t you dare kill him!” she yelled. “He lives. No matter what he does, he lives! He doesn’t get to escape this! I want him to suffer.”

Oswald wasn’t paying attention. After he shot Babs, he threw the pistol away from himself and gathered Ed closer to him.

Tabitha didn’t look at Babs. She instead kept her eyes focused on Oswald’s pistol until her vision was too blurry and suddenly she collapsed onto her knees. 

“Why?” she asked. “Why her?”

Oswald looked up at Tabby again. “We’re even.”

Tabitha’s pants were getting wet. Barbara’s blood was seeping into the fabric.

“Why did you do that?”

“Oh, Ed,” Oswald cooed before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“Answer me!” Tabitha snapped. “You weren’t supposed to--that wasn’t supposed to happen--why did you do that?!”

Oswald looked up at her, eyes lacking the rage she’d come to associate with him. “He was  _ everything _ . I did you a favor before by killing Butch instead of Babs. You always loved her better. And now because you couldn’t accept that we were  _ even _ , you can deal with her being gone too. You get to lose everything too.”

Tabitha looked away, just as Oswald did. He turned his gaze back to the corpse in his lap; she turned to the puddle spreading on the floor beside her.

Barbara’s mouth was ajar, her eyes wide open in shock. The hole in her forehead dribbled out blood. She probably died before she hit the ground.

Tabitha couldn’t fight the sobs that wracked her body, couldn’t even find it in herself to  _ want  _ to.

“Babs…” she whispered. This had to be some sort of dream. Maybe she’d wake up and be able to walk to the bar and tell Babs that she was over what happened with Butch. Let bygones be bygones, eh? Let’s just do us.

Maybe she’d wake up in Barbara’s bed, her face against those silky pajamas. Maybe she’d be able to whisper, “I love you,” out loud. Maybe she could nudge Babs awake and say it to her face, kiss her and show her that she  _ meant  _ it.

Oswald was lucky. At least Ed had died knowing he was loved, knowing how Oswald had felt about him.

Babs didn’t know. She would never know.

“Strange can’t be the only one. There has to be somebody else who can help.”

“The bridges are gone,” Oswald said softly. When Tabby looked at him again, he was rocking back and forth as if just soothing Ed to sleep. “Unless you plan on teleporting, you’re limited to the confines of Gotham.”

“There has to be someone around here who can help.”

Oswald didn’t say anything.

“Penguin--er… Oswald…” He glared at her. “It wasn’t personal when I killed your mom, you know. But I’m sorry for doing it and for constantly reminding you of it. If you help me now, we’ll be even, okay? No more of this.”

Oswald pet Ed again. “You’re lucky I love him so much.”

* * *

Tabitha commanded the henchwomen to carefully take both Ed and Barbara’s bodies to a separate room. It would be difficult to work on fixing this when their corpses were rotting in the corner.

Penguin downed half a bottle of scotch in fifteen minutes, eyes staying dim and sad.

“I know R’as brought Babs back once before,” Tabitha started. “It was some pool of magical water or something. I just don’t know where to start looking for it.”

“It might not even exist anymore,” Penguin chided hopelessly. “Even if it was somewhere in Gotham, it might’ve been destroyed when Jeremiah blew up the bridges.”

Tabitha groaned in frustration. “You’ve been on the brink of death a  _ billion  _ times! There has to be something out there that can help us!”

Penguin did not budge. “Unless Strange brings himself back to life there’s no way.” 

Tabitha stood up and started pacing, resolutely avoiding any alcohol to keep her mind sharp. “Hey, what about that time Nygma shot you at the pier? That wasn’t Strange, was it?”

Oswald glared up at her, downing yet another glassful of scotch. “No. That was Ivy. But I wasn’t dead then. Just nearly.”

“We should track her down. Maybe she can help us.”

A roll of eyes. “Even if she could help--which she  _ can’t _ \--Ivy and I did not part on the best of terms. And from what I could tell, she’s not fond of you, either.”

“No, she isn’t,” Tabby replied. “But we have to try everything we can. The alternative is letting those two die and I’m not gonna let my pride ruin everything.”

Oswald’s eyes remained narrowed but he didn’t argue any further.

* * *

**Oswald**

Ivy lived in Gotham’s largest park. Oswald had kept tabs on her ever since she left his employ. 

When it came to Ivy, Oswald was always torn between bitterness over her departure and sadness that he’d lost such a dear friend. On the other hand, losing friends was par for the course in his line of business, so he’d never tried to patch things up. This situation was yet another example of how screwed up things got when he let broken ties lie.

Leaving former friends to wallow in loathing and bitterness until he needed them rarely worked out for him and he couldn’t see it working this time, but Tabitha was rather adamant, so he might as well give it a shot.

“This place smells like shit,” Tabby muttered from behind him as they walked through the park.

“She likes it like that,” Oswald replied, focusing on scanning the scenery in front of him for any clue to where Ivy was hiding.

Tabitha was supposed to stay at the Sirens’ club, but she’d refused, despite Oswald’s valid arguments that  _ two  _ people Ivy disliked asking for something would just make her even more unlikely to oblige. 

Thus, she hovered close by him, with her henchwomen at her heels, armed to the teeth in case this went awry.

“That looks kind of like a greenhouse, doesn’t it?” Tabitha asked, gesturing to a glass building in the distance, with broken panes and vines crawling up the walls.

They approached, as stealthily as possible. Oswald entered first, lifting his hands up and gently calling out, “Ivy… It’s Oswald… We have to talk.”

Tabitha and her goons followed behind, hands up in a show of peace.

“Oswald?” A deep, somewhat groggy voice called out from deep inside the house. Oswald decided to ignore the anger in the voice for now and instead continued walking.

They all followed the voice until they were standing in front of a red headed woman sitting on the ground against the wall. He knew she’d changed again but seeing her new form in the flesh was a different matter. If it wasn’t for the fire in her eyes, he probably wouldn’t recognize her at all.

“Ivy, what are you doing?”

“I was sleeping,” she answered, already irritated. “I don’t remember  _ inviting  _ you here.”

“Ivy, we need to talk,” Oswald pleaded gently. “Something… happened. Ed is  _ hurt _ and I need your help--”

“Barbara too!” hissed Tabitha. “Don’t forget that we’re in this together, Penguin.”

“Ed?” Ivy repeated, slowly getting to her feet. “You came here for the first time in  _ who knows how long _ to ask me to help you with Ed?!” She looked enraged, eyes wide and lips twitching. 

Oswald could feel Tabby’s minions tensing, ready for a fight.

“Oh no, Ivy, you know I always wanted to come see you,” he stressed. “It’s just that I was certain you didn’t want to see me--”

“And I didn’t!”

“Exactly! I didn’t want to bother you and I didn’t even know how to start apologizing, so I kept to myself, but I really need your help this time.”

“Because Ed Nygma is hurt? It’s always about him, isn’t it?”

Tabitha scoffed beside Oswald. “Tell me about it.”

“Hey,” Oswald whispered. “I thought we were in this together?”

Ivy looked like a paradox of elegance and filth, hands dirty and dress green, as if it’d been made of moss. “I bet you don’t even know what you should be sorry for.”

“I should’ve appreciated you better, Ivy. I was a fool, taking you for granted like that.”

“Did you even notice when I left?”

“Of course I did, Ivy! I kept tabs on you ever since, just to make sure you were safe!”

Ivy didn’t say anything, face impassive except for the furrowing of her eyebrows. It was good to know she was still childish as ever when it came to her pouting.

Tabitha pushed Oswald aside to approach Ivy. “Ivy, I know we’re not on great terms, but you’ve  _ loved _ before, haven’t you?”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “Despite appearances, she’s just a teenager--”

“Shut up!” snapped Ivy. “And  _ yes _ , I have.”

“What? Who?”

“I’ve had  _ friends _ , before, you know.” It was now Ivy’s turn to roll her eyes.

Tabitha continued. “Then you know how much it hurts when they’re gone.” She reached over and took Ivy’s hand. “You don’t have to do it for that asshole, or for me. Just help us. We will owe you for the rest of our lives.”

Oswald glared at her for talking for him, despite the fact that her words seemed to be working. He’d never heard Tabitha talk like that. She was notorious for her wrath, for finding persuasive power in cruelty rather than in heart-to-hearts. Yet here she was, voice soft, all gentleness and sweetness.

Ivy exhaled heavily. “Fine, but you both owe me  _ a lot _ .” She pulled away from Tabitha’s grip. “Now tell me where they are.”

* * *

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THEY WERE  _ DEAD _ !”

Oswald shrugged. “I may not have been specific, but--”

“I can’t just bring people back from the dead like that, Pengy!”

Despite her anger, and despite Oswald’s hatred of that nickname, he still felt a pang of affection that she felt safe enough to use it again. 

“Any equipment that you need will be provided by us,” Tabitha chimed in. “That should help, right?”

Ivy swore under her breath--a new habit Oswald wasn’t happy to discover--and snapped, “I wouldn’t even know where to start!”

The three of them were standing in the doorway of the room that Ed and Barbara were rotting in, the only light being the small window above the beds.

“Ivy, please,” Tabitha said in a hushed voice. “Your help means the world to us.” She turned to Oswald pointedly, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he added. “Just the fact that you’re here at all is a huge help.”

Ivy sighed and turned to face them. “I’m gonna need all the potted plants from my greenhouse and  _ stay out _ .” With that, she shut the door on them.

Oswald kept his distance from the room. He was nervous about Ed, of course, but if this did end well, it wouldn’t change anything. Ed would wake up and leave and it’d be back to business as usual between them. He never felt like sticking around, least of all for Oswald. It’d hurt less if the only glimpse he had of the man was of him walking out the door. That was what Oswald wanted.

Tabitha seemed to have a different point of view, placing a chair by the door and barely moving for anything. Whenever Ivy emerged, Tabitha would perk up, asking question after question about Barbara. 

No, she’s still not awake. No, no signs of life. Please, give it time. The plants work at their own pace.

Oswald’s method of coping had been by imbibing a lot of alcohol. His practiced hold on his liquor was now a hindrance because all he wanted was to be  _ wasted  _ and not have to deal with aches in his chest. He stayed put in his booth and drank and drank until he couldn’t see straight.

Two days into Ivy’s treatment, at midnight, Oswald figured he was drunk enough to do something stupid and he pulled a chair up next to Tabitha. 

“If this works,” he started. “What are you gonna do?”

“None of your business,” Tabby hissed. 

Fair enough. Oswald leaned back in his chair and kept his gaze on the ceiling. “We’re even, right? We’ve put each other through enough pain, I think.” She didn’t respond so he continued. “When Ed wakes up, I’ll keep my distance.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want him to think he owes me anything. He’s free to get up and leave, and I know he will.”

“You don’t think he’ll feel differently after what you did for him?”

Oswald shrugged, pretending like that possibility didn’t make him uneasy. “He knows how I feel. This will go the same way it always has.”

“I have no idea what you see in that creep.”

“I don’t know what you saw in Butch,” Oswald rebuked. “At least I’ll concede that Babs is worthier of your affections.”

Oswald didn’t know why he was talking. Tabitha had slaughtered his mother like she was some ordinary anybody, had sneered reminders at him whenever she could get away with it, had  _ shot _ his poor Ed in his cold heart--

He still felt like talking to her. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he’d talk to anyone because he’d been sore in his chest and maybe in his stomach (where the scar tissue was still embedded in his skin like a memorial plaque:  _ Here lies Oswald’s hope for love, dead and buried; may he rest in peace _ ) for far too long. But Tabitha could understand right now like she wouldn’t have been able to a month ago. Now she had a scar too, even if it was under her skin and deep in her heart where he couldn’t see.

Really, Oswald wasn’t scared that Ed would wake up and walk out. He was scared that Ed would wake up and use his first breath to ask, “Where’s Oswald?”

He didn’t even know where to begin with addressing that fear because it felt like hope and terror all at once and he didn’t understand it.

“She’ll know you love her,” Oswald said, eager to get out of his own head. “You won’t need to say it. You gave up the chance to kill me just to save her. She’ll know.”

“None of your business,” Tabby replied, voice distant. 

Ed would know too. Ed would wake up, see Barbara alive, see Tabitha alive, and he would know. He had known for years already, had seen Oswald do the same thing over and over again, seen Oswald put him first above all things a thousand times. It wouldn’t change anything. Maybe it’d change one thing just enough.

Oswald was used to not talking about Ed. He’d gone years pretending like his feelings for Ed were nothing more than sentimentality, nothing more than a sweet memory of piano music and American flags. But Ed was in that room not breathing, not remembering, not festering in bitterness and hatred. That made all the difference because now Oswald wanted to talk, maybe blabber endlessly about infinity and riddles and a new fondness for the color green, maybe cry.

One more look at Tabitha just cemented that the only person who would comfort him if he did cry was himself.

* * *

**Tabitha**

Time travelled in spurts of sleep and half-consciousness. Tabby sat on the chair day in and day out until the concept of a day meant nothing. 

She’d be awake just enough for Oswald to come over and start rambling about something she couldn’t pay attention to even if she wanted to, or to accost Ivy about Barbara’s condition, or to eat something if she had the energy. Then she’d drift off to sleep, never dreaming, never sinking deep enough that anything more than a pin dropping would jolt her awake.

She was always exhausted, always lethargic. She could barely muster the energy to glare at Penguin whenever he got the clever idea to limp over and ask about how she was doing. He was just asking her because he wanted her to ask him and she refused to give him the satisfaction of letting him talk about himself.

They may have established a truce but his hurt feelings about Nygma did not interest her and she had no intention of pretending like they did.

Tabitha would guess it’d been maybe five days since Ivy had begun her treatment. She’d need to ask Penguin to be sure so she made peace with being unsure. Five days, give or take. Many hours. Hundreds of instances of waking up to a dark club and falling asleep to the sound of gentle chatter and the pouring of spirits.

She had no heart to go through patterns and habits when Babs wasn’t there to join her.

Ivy emerged from the room, slower than usual. She was tired too--had been working endlessly to freshen up the room, to enliven two stiff corpses who’d been caught in the fray of anger and animosity and revenge.

(Tabitha owed Babs more than a confession: she owed her an  _ apology _ .)

Tabitha sat up straight. “Well? How is she?”

She knew Penguin was perking up in his boozed up booth, and that as soon as Ivy walked away he’d approach her drunkenly and ask her how she was feeling again.

“They’re both alive now,” Ivy announced, loud enough for Oswald to hear across the bar (not that he hadn’t obviously been listening in). “They’re still unconscious. Their bodies need to clear out some toxins and rot before they can function properly again. It’ll take a little bit of time.”

Tabitha released a heavy breath. Only when it was out of her did she realize she’d been holding onto the same breath for days.

She stood up, suddenly more awake than ever. “Can I see her?”

Ivy’s eyes were soft when she nodded. 

“Thank you,” Tabby whispered before rushing to enter the room. 

There were two beds in the room. Nygma was on one--his body a mangled mess--and Barbara was on the other.

She looked peaceful, despite the healing wound in her forehead. She didn’t look as sweaty and grimy as Nygma. Her short hair was wet with perspiration but her face looked clear, and Tabby almost chuckled at how effortless she was, even in death. 

She sat at the edge of Barbara’s bed, gathering the courage to slowly take her hand and press her lips to the knuckles. She listened carefully for the quiet inhales and exhales, for signs of life that had poured out of her when Oswald had emptied his gun in her head.

Tabitha stayed for as long as she could, standing still, holding Barbara’s hand in her own, too afraid to whisper a concession or a secret in case that was the moment Babs opened her eyes.

Eventually, after hours, Ivy came in to tell her that Babs needed time on her own to heal properly. 

“Come get me the second she wakes up,” Tabitha directed, heading immediately to take a shower. She couldn’t very well greet Babs back to life unwashed.

* * *

_ I am finding out that maybe I was wrong, that I've fallen down and I can't do this alone _

* * *

**Tabitha**

Tabitha threw herself into work. Babs was healing and she’d be irritated to wake up just to find out that Tabby had been neglecting the club and the women they were supposed to protect.

Babs was better at this sort of thing, talking to the women who entered, hearing their stories, promising safety and welfare in exchange for loyalty. Tabby was unaccustomed to reaching her heart out like that to total strangers. It was a jarring change.

Nygma woke up first. 

When Ivy entered the bar area to make the announcement, Tabitha held her breath in waiting, sure that news about Barbara’s condition was coming.

Instead, Ivy had declared, “Ed’s up,” and Tabby felt like a popped balloon.

Oswald didn’t move from his home booth, just sank another glass of whatever bottle of alcohol he was burning through that hour.

It pissed Tabby off.

“Get up,” she hissed. “And go see him.”

“No!” Oswald screeched, staying put. “He won’t want to see me.”

Ivy approached them delicately. “He asked for you, Pengy.”

“No, he did not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to leave this place. I’ll send you anything you request this week, Ivy.”

“And your tab?” Tabitha spat. “You’ve been guzzling our booze for days. You didn’t think that was free, did you?”

“Fine,” Oswald slurred. “I’ll pay the tab too. Just send me the bill. I’m leaving now.” He got to his feet and started walking, looking too eager to escape.

“Pengy,” Ivy called out, voice gentle. “He really wants to see you.”

He stopped, his silhouette impassive. Tabby heard him sigh and then he was headed for the room.

She didn’t waste a second before turning back to Ivy, who was smiling devilishly. 

“And about… Wait, what is it?”

“Ed didn’t ask for him,” Ivy answered sweetly. “I lied.”

Ouch. Tabby shrugged that off. “Is Barbara okay?”

“She’s fine. Still hasn’t woken up. Let’s give Pengy a moment to self-sabotage and then we can go check in on her.”

Tabby had half a mind to throw both Nygma and Oswald out of the room so she could wait anxiously for the second that Barbara opened her eyes.

* * *

**Oswald**

He opened the door with feigned confidence, refusing to linger or tremble. 

“Ed,” he called into the room, averting his eyes. He shut the door behind him and waited nervously for a reply. He decided then that if Ed wouldn’t speak up, he’d shrug,  _ c’est la vie _ , and just leave. He hoped Ed had fallen back asleep.

“Oswald?”

So he had not fallen back asleep.

“What are you doing here?” Ed asked sluggishly.

“Ivy said you wanted to see me?” Oswald did not mention the flip his heart gave at the thought that when Ed first woke up, his first thought had been to inquire after Oswald.

“Oh… I don’t think I did,” Ed said. Only then did Oswald snap a glance at Ed’s direction. Ed was curled over on his side, sweaty and smelling funky. His hair was messy, in those curls Oswald liked so much, even if his hair was significantly longer than he preferred.

“You didn’t?” Oswald asked, feeling his stomach sink to the floor. “Very well. I’ll be taking my leave now.”

“Wait!” Ed exclaimed. “I’d still like to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

Oswald stayed stock still. He refused to approach the bed, turn on the lights, look straight at Ed. Instead, he stood and blinked, silent. 

“You saved me again,” Ed said stupidly.

“You’re welcome, Ed. It’s really no trouble. I must be going.”

“Why?” 

Tabitha had not asked him, though he’d really wanted her to, just like he wanted Ivy to any of the times she poked her head out of the room with an update.

_ Why do you want to leave so much? _

Because he doesn’t love me and I’m tired of the reminder.

“I have business to tend to.” Oswald smiled perfunctorily at Ed. “I’m glad you’re up though.”

“Don’t go!” Ed snapped, shuffling in his bed until he was sitting up shakily. “I have questions.”

“Questions?” Oswald finally dropped his facade. Niceties were failing here. “Of course you have questions! You have questions everytime something like this happens! You get yourself in some  _ scrape _ and I get you out of it and you ask your questions even though the answer is the same every time!”

Ed stayed stubbornly silent. Oswald wondered why the  _ fuck _ he looked so mad.

“Yes, I saved you  _ again _ , and yes, the next time you get in trouble I’ll save you  _ again, _ and yes, if you ever need anything from me, you can trust I’ll deliver  _ again _ .” Oswald exhaled with all the force he could muster. “Now do you still have  _ questions _ or can I go?”

Ed hushed up, face suddenly unreadable.

Oswald turned to leave and it was only when his hand was on the doorknob that Ed whispered, “Do you still love me?”

Oswald pressed his forehead against the door and sighed. “For the  _ Riddler _ , the questions you ask sure are stupid.” 

Ed was quiet when he spoke again. “Ivy said you’ve been waiting for me to wake up?”

Ivy… deceitful, traitorous Ivy… Oswald needed to teach her to keep her trap shut about things that did not concern her. “I’ve been dropping by occasionally,” he lied. “No big deal.”

“You got Strange to help me last time, right? You’re the one who fixed me and Lee.”

“No need to thank me,” Oswald stated, straightening. 

“I just need to know,” Ed said slowly, for once in his life seemingly incapable of talking his head off. “I need to know if you love me, because… Because I just need to know.”

Oswald was not a selfless person. He’d never deign to use such a label to describe himself. He was a self-serving man, did whatever it took to climb the rank to get what power he could wrangle up because all his life he’d been second to everyone else. He’d been selfless with his mother but not enough to save her, just enough to doom her. He’d been selfish with Ed, had wanted him all to himself because _god damn it_ didn’t he deserve to have someone to love? Didn’t he deserve to be sickeningly sweet and in love? Didn’t he deserve to wake up in the arms of somebody who’d declared--entirely unprompted--that he’d do _anything_ for Oswald? … No. No, he didn’t.

But Ed wasn’t a lesson to learn because if he was then that the pain would be numb by now. Loving Ed had no moral. It wasn’t about whether or not Oswald was selfish or selfless, whether he deserved or didn’t deserve love. It was about the fact that Ed felt the need to repeat over and over again in every way he could, that he had not, did not, could not, would not,  _ should  _ not ever love Oswald. 

And Oswald would repeat in every way he could (having abandoned the words when all they got him was a bullet in the gut) that he loved Ed and that he always would and that he could not stop even though he  _ should _ .

_ I just need to know _ .

_ I just need to figure out one more way of letting you know what you already know _ .

“Why?” Oswald asked, turning around, too exhausted to be mad this time. “You know I love you, Ed. I’ll always love you. And you don’t love me. I’m tired of us saying the same thing. We’ve made it clear, haven’t we?”

“No!” Ed shouted. “Because I… I  _ do _ , Oswald! I do love you!”

“Shut up, Ed. You don’t owe me anything, least of all this performance.”

“It’s not a performance!” Ed snapped. “You know me, Oswald. I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t mean it.”

“You say lots of things you don’t mean,” Oswald replied, trying to keep his voice tight.

“When Tabitha and Barbara kidnapped me, I was sure you wouldn’t come--”

“What?” Oswald laughed bitterly. “God, Eddie, I love you but you’re so fucking stupid.”

“--But you  _ did _ and I was so  _ happy _ . I was going to tell you once we got out of the Sirens but…”

“I’ve saved you countless times, Ed. It’s almost a chore at this point. What made this any different?”

Ed hesitated. “I actually let myself think about it for once. Really think about it, not just… deflect. I was too scared to before because you hurt me so much but... I did this time. And my last conversation with Lee--I just was suddenly aware that everytime I get lost, I end up going back to you.”

Oswald was the one rendered silent this time. He didn’t know what to say.

“I do love you, Oswald. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Ed looked small in the bed, skinnier than usual, his skin pale and ashen. He was a mess and Oswald still thought he looked  _ beautiful _ because he always looked beautiful. 

He gave up pretending like his knees weren’t shaking.

“I love you too, Ed.”

He didn’t know what to do now. Did this change anything? Was he supposed to take Ed home with him? Wait another few days for Ed to fully recover?

“Can you kiss me?” Ed asked, sounding nervous and insecure.

Oswald wanted to scoff.  _ Are you kidding me, Eddie? You look and smell like shit _ .  _ You were dead a day ago and there’s still rot in you. When was the last time you took a shower, even before you got shot _ ? But if he said any of that, he’d be lying, because he really didn’t care.

Instead he rushed to Ed’s side and pressed their lips together--too scared to be hesitant because this moment felt so fleeting and fragile and if he didn’t  _ take  _ it, it would shatter.

It was disgusting, because Ed really did smell horrible and his mouth was musty, and Oswald hadn’t bathed in a few days either. Oswald decided it was the best kiss anyone had ever had.

* * *

**Tabitha**

Barbara was still not awake.

Oswald had let Ed heal for an extra day before whisking him away to City Hall, promising Ivy whatever rewards she wanted (resulting in an Ivy that seemed both annoyed and reluctantly cheerful).

Tabitha had boiled at Oswald’s news that--only a mere minutes after Ed waking up--they were in love. 

“Congratulations,” she bit out sarcastically when they had a moment alone. “Savor it while it lasts because I’m counting on him changing his mind within the week.”

“Say what you like,” Oswald replied. “We both know you’re just jealous.”

It didn’t matter if that was true, because Tabby had been honest too. 

She would’ve been content that moment to watch Oswald walk out of the club and never return, but he hesitated. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice hesitant and grudging. “I gave up and you didn’t. If it wasn’t for you, this would be panning out a lot differently.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for being a cynic,” she said curtly. “You’re welcome. And you owe me.”

Tabby didn’t stay to see Oswald and Nygma out. They still weren’t friends--would never be friends--and the fact that they’d decided to not kill each other was enough for the both of them.

* * *

Every day was the same. Tabby couldn’t tell her memories of the past few days apart because they all looked the same.

Babs still wasn’t up, was still deep in a coma. Ivy didn’t have the answers, just kept placing and replacing plants each passing day.

Tabby was starting to lose hope--the one thing Penguin had been so grateful for last week. 

It was unfair because Babs deserved to live. If Nygma got to live, so did Babs.

Was this karma? Was this what Tabby got for being oblivious? 

She’d stumbled into the Sirens the night Butch was killed and the only light in the room had been coming from Barbara.

_ “You took away the one person I loved so I took away the one person you loved _ .”

Tabby wished she could go back to that moment, sigh in relief because at least she still had the person who mattered the most.

Tabby had survived without Butch, had gone on for months still feeling rage and passion and anguish and even fleeting moments of joy. With Babs gone, she’d barely felt anything. She’d been sepia-toned for weeks, waiting for the color to come back.

Oswald had taken away someone who  _ mattered _ , sure, but not the One. 

Why did it take losing her for Tabby to realize that?

* * *

“SHE’S UP!” Ivy screamed from inside the room.

Tabitha dropped the glass she was holding. She pushed desperately past the people blocking her way to the door. She barged in immediately, skipping knocks and invitations.

“Babs?” she called, eyes immediately on the blonde woman with her hair still flawless despite her weeks of bedrest. How the fuck did she manage that? “My God, you really are up?”

Babs was sitting up in her bed, holding a mug full of green something, looking like she’d just left Hell. Maybe she had.

Ivy grinned. “I’m gonna leave you two to talk. Make sure to drink that!” She gestured vehemently at the mug and then shut the door behind her.

“Hey, Tabby,” Babs greeted, voice deep and broken. The place where the bullethole had been in her forehead had all but healed, leading Tabby to wonder what the  _ fuck  _ kinda plants Ivy was hoarding.

“Barbara…” Tabitha hated herself for being speechless but how did one usually address their resurrected lover-not-lover?

“Ivy told me it’s been weeks?” Babs laughed hoarsely. “I hope you’ve been keeping everything up to standard.”

Tabby nodded uselessly. “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

“So what did I miss?”

_ Tell her tell her tell her tell her tell her you love her tell her-- _

“So Penguin and Nygma are together now.”

Barbara snorted. “Ugh. That took forever.”

“Penguin and I have a truce now.”

“No kidding?” Babs set her mug down, smiling as if it didn’t take her getting shot in the head for that to happen. “The world turned topsy turvy while I was out, huh?”

“This is Gotham,” Tabitha argued. “When isn’t it topsy turvy here?”

They both giggled for a moment, but the next silence reminded Tabby of how scared she was.

“Can you… scoot over?” she asked tentatively.

Babs didn’t answer, just moved aside, holding her blanket up.

Tabby crawled in beside her, feeling unwelcome tears welling up in her eyes because it had been so long since she could find comfort in this and it almost didn’t feel real.

“I missed you,” she whispered. The window was open, airing out all the body heat and rotten smell that had been accumulating. “I missed you so much.” She wrapped her arms around Babs, careful not to overindulge and accidentally squeeze too hard, a difficult feat since Tabby’s instinct was to never let this precious thing go again.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Barbara said softly.

What a ridiculous thing to say. Tabby hadn’t been the one in danger at all. Barbara had been the one on the brink of death, or in the depths of it, rather. 

Instead of replying, Tabby kissed Babs. It was not the first time and for some reason it felt so much safer to kiss than to  _ say _ anything. They kissed languidly for several minutes, Tabby’s body melting into the warmth of the bed after being cold for so long. It wasn’t the best kiss they’d shared: there was too much missing, too much unsaid. She’d missed this… but what was this?

“I’m sorry.” She pressed her apology into Barbara’s mouth, hoping the kiss would act as a silencer. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Let me say it, just don’t hear it.

Barbara  _ did  _ hear it. She pulled away, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sorry for what?”

“It’s my fault that this happened to you. If I’d just never--”

“You mean if you just let Penguin off the hook for hurting you? I’d rather die than let some scumbag off after committing any trespass against you.”

“You don’t get it,” Tabby said. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I should’ve known--”

“There’s no way you could’ve--”

“I don’t want you to comfort me right now!” Tabby snapped, immediately sorry. “I put your life on the line to avenge Butch’s, and that was a mistake.” 

This was the time to spit it out, to stick it on a pike and let it stand beside the men’s bodies outside of the club, let Barbara and  _ everyone _ know that it was  _ one person _ , only one person, that made Tabby’s heart beat.

“You did everything for me and I… I put you on the line and I’m sorry.”

“Tabby,” Barbara laughed. “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. You’re my girl.” With that, she ran a warm hand through Tabby’s hair. “It’d take a hundred bullets to the brain if it made you happy. Because I’ve learned that lesson way too many times the hard way: putting  _ anything  _ above you never works out for me. You’re the only thing that matters to me and I’m just sorry it took so long for me to realize it.” She smiled. “I can’t live without you.”

Tabby let herself lie in Barbara’s arms for a long moment, stole her heat until she couldn’t take it anymore. She sat up, tearing herself out of the gentle bubble. “I love you, Barbara. I should’ve said it to you before. I was so distracted with  _ Butch _ that I forgot that I still had you… and how lucky I was to have you. Losing you hurt a thousand times worse than losing Butch. Most days I could hardly breathe with how bad it hurt--and I’m sick of myself for not realizing that you’re  _ it for me _ . It was never Butch or anybody else. It was always you. It always goes back to you, everytime, and I’m just so  _ in love with you _ \--”

Tabby couldn’t finish her sentence--wasn’t really even sure what she was going to say next, honestly--because Babs had pulled her back down into her arms and pressed their mouths together.

Kissing like this was different, almost as if the earth’s plates had shifted and nothing could ever be the same again. 

“I didn’t really care if you ever said that,” Babs muttered after parting. “I love you too, Tabs. Loving you was enough--having you in my life was enough. But I have to admit that hearing you say that makes me  _ very happy _ .”

Tabby and Butch had exchanged “I love you”s already, had kissed on the precipice of life or death and Tabby had thought that it had been real, that she’d hit the jackpot. None of that held a candle to this.

This was more than lukewarm affection and wet kisses. It was fire and emotion and protecting and being protected in kind because nothing in the whole world mattered as much as this woman did.

“Drink that,” Tabby demanded, nodding her head at the mug on the bedside table. 

Barbara groaned. “I suppose I owe Ivy one hell of a thank you for saving my life, huh?”

“And Penguin.”

“Oh, well,  _ that’s  _ never gonna happen.”

Barbara sat up and put the mug to her lips, sipping and making faces at the no doubt putrid liquid. Tabby held her free hand, pressing it to her cheek.

“I don’t know how I ever thought I could live without this but I am sure as fuck never letting anyone touch you again.”

Babs smiled down at her over the mug and Tabby finally felt safe and sound again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading this indulgent mess... if you enjoyed it please leave a comment. i'd be very grateful and i'll owe you my life
> 
> referenced song lyrics from the beginning of each part:  
> ch 1: sorrow by flyleaf  
> ch 2: a new hope by broken iris  
> ch 3: executioner by nicole dollanganger  
> ch 4 a: leaving tonight by the neighborhood  
> ch 4 b: my heart by paramore


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